Unspeakable (The Redemption of Sirius Black)
by Swirly Head
Summary: Sirius is on a quest for redemption, and he's not happy about it. The occasionally schizophrenic Mr Black is joined by Remus, Severus Snape and two Unspeakables on a hunt for Peter Pettigrew. If there's such thing as heaven, this definitely isn't it.
1. Prologue - No Music

How he hated Thursdays. Most people hated Mondays, and Sirius Black hated Thursdays. Every Thursday of his life he remembered the Thursday that things had started to go wrong. The Thursday he very nearly killed Severus Snape.

He hated Thursdays.

"Black? It's time to go."  
  
There was a meeting, today, he vaguely remembered. Something to do with Dumbledore. Sirius never used to forget anything – every word, every insult, every stinging reply – he never let anything pass him by. He had never been an introspective child, and perhaps if he'd looked a little deeper, scratched the surface, thought before he acted he wouldn't be sitting in this room. Dead man walking, boys, dead man walking.

Walking into a circular room, which contained a circular table. Sitting at the circular table were the Order of Phoenix, or what was left of them. Dumbledore's secret weapons, his silent arrows. These were the people who didn't answer to the Ministry, who held the key to their own destiny. They didn't entrust their fates to bureaucrats scared of losing their piece of the pie, and Sirius respected them for it. If he'd looked a little deeper, scratched the surface, thought before he acted maybe he'd be sitting in _this_ room. 

Dead man walking.

From the corner of his eye he could see Remus watching him. They'd spoken, briefly. After that joyful reunion in the Shack, Sirius had been able to think about what he'd done, about what he'd put certain people through. No, he didn't want to speak at length with Remus, not just yet. It would be better for Remus if he could just forget he'd ever had a friend like Sirius Black, ever called such a man his brother.

Or would it be better for you, Sirius? That was the irritating side effect of having been left to rot in Azkaban for twelve years. He'd finally got the introspective thing down to an art. Sirius Black had a relentless conscience. He scrutinised every word, every insult, every stinging reply for fault, and found blame aplenty. Most of it lay with him. 

Perhaps he should have been sent back.

"Ah, Sirius. A pleasure, as always." Dumbledore's voice was warm, and it made Sirius, the real Sirius, want to break down into a crumpled heap on the floor. Fake Sirius had been operating to the public for a couple of years now. Fake Sirius was a protective godfather, a good listener, someone to depend on in your hour of need.

Real Sirius was an emotional wreck. Real Sirius was still crying in that cell, on that island, pulling at his matted hair, analysing every single bloody detail. Fortunately, Fake Sirius was in control most of the time. He could live with being Fake Sirius, just about. 

He smiled, the smile that he'd used so many times to bend everyone to his way of thinking. "Thank you for the invitation."  
  
They were all staring at him, interested. McGonagall had already spoken with him, Snape as well. He'd seen Mrs Figg when he went to round everyone up, and Mundungus had gone so far as to hug him. The others were a mixed group. Mad-Eye Moody had taken his rightful place by Albus, and Sirius tried not to look at the all-seeing eye. He wasn't sure if it could see through clothes or not, and he was still embarrassed about the scars.

Real Sirius hated that remnant of vanity. He'd been a good-looking man, once, had something to be vain about. Self-conscious at the searching looks, Sirius resisted the urge to hide his face and carried on smiling.

"Everybody here knows of your innocence," said Mrs Figg gently. Sirius never called her Arabella. "We want to help you prove it to the rest of the world. We want to help you find Pettigrew."  
  
Real Sirius stopped wallowing for a moment and tried to clap sarcastically. Fake Sirius made his eyes shine with unshed tears of gratitude and responded in a choked voice. "You don't know how much that means to me."  
  
"We'll be sparin' ye two of the bes', my lad," said Mundungus, smoking reflectively on a pipe. "Two 'o my bes' Unspeakables and Remus Lupin to boot."  
  
Sirius looked up sharply. "I don't want Remus in any danger."

"I'm coming with you," said Remus, in that damned reasonable voice. "Whether you like it or not, Padfoot."

"Is that acceptable, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked him. "From what Harry's said, Pettigrew is currently Voldemort's right-hand man. This isn't simply a mission to clear your name, it's a vital part of the fight. Don't you want to fight again? For Harry?"  
  
That's right, old man. Pull on the heartstrings. Sirius sighed.

"Where do we start?"  
  



	2. Act Naturally

A/N Thanks to those who reviewed, and here's the first chapter. I don't own JKR's characters, and I don't own the Beatles. In this chapter, our heroes start their quest and meet the Unspeakables – unfortunately there's also a brief run-in with some Death Eaters. Wonderful. Oh, and Sirius is _dying_ for a fag. :o)

__

'We'll make the scene about a man that's sad and lonely  
And beggin down upon his bended knee  
I'll play the part but I won't need rehearsal  
All I gotta do is act naturally.'

****

Act Naturally – The Beatles

Another day, another room. It seemed Sirius lived his life in a series of rooms. He'd preferred being on the run, being Padfoot. Life was less complicated when all you thought about was food. A myriad of faces haunted his dreams, haunted his seconds and minutes. Two of those faces were standing with him in this room, waiting for the Unspeakables.

"Where will you go now, Severus?"  
  
Ah, Remus, the peacemaker. The polite conversationalist, the one who never lost his temper and always saw the good before the bad. Some nights in Azkaban Sirius had wished to be the werewolf because then, at last, he would have been humble. Would have been grateful for his chance at a normal life and wouldn't have taken it all and gave nothing back. 

"On business for Dumbledore," said the Potions Master, none of the usual sneer in his voice. Ever since Fake Sirius arrived on the scene, Real Sirius had found himself wondering if Snape was in much the same position. Having to put up a constant show to the world was draining, and for a moment Sirius found himself wanting to discuss the matter with Severus. Would never happen, though.

"Oh."  
  
Sirius decided to talk. "So, what're these Unspeakables like then?"  
  
"I've never met them," said Severus shortly.

"They don't have names," Remus ventured, none too helpfully. 

Sirius looked at him in momentary disbelief. "What?"  
  
"Don't you remember? Lily had her birth certificate destroyed when she enrolled. She didn't exist, officially. No records. These two're the same. Maybe they'll tell us their real names, maybe not."  
  
He was lost at the word Lily. Mental shut-down. At least he could still talk to Remus, still knew that Snape was alive. He hadn't killed them. Lily, the lovely Lily, he'd killed her. Real Sirius and his stupid bloody conscience had led him down this track so many times now he just had to sit back and hate himself for the duration. No thinking was required, all the mistakes he'd ever made were lined up in his head. 

Thankfully, the sudden Apparation of the Unspeakables shook him out of it.

The first thing that struck him about them was their youth. Neither were over thirty, the boy perhaps a little older than the girl. The second thing was their clothing. Both could easily have passed for vampires, or at least those sad vampire worshippers who wore dark eyeliner in the hope that it would bring them immortal life. All it usually brought them was outbreaks of spots and greasy hair. Feeling a little tactless, Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you were the best the Ministry had?" he asked, sceptically. 

"In our line of work we tend to have short life expectancies," said the young man. 

"And age doesn't always go hand in hand with wisdom," added the girl, stubbing her cigarette out on the floor.

Sirius wanted to die. A hopeless quest, for redemption he didn't deserve, with a man he'd betrayed and two smart-arsed cliches. Excellent. 

"I'm Remus Lupin, and this is Sirius Black," Remus started to say, obvious amusement in his voice. Oh, yes, it's all very funny. The two children they've sent to us spouting profound statements are _hilarious_.

"They know," said Severus, some of that familiar silkiness creeping back. The other man turned to the Unspeakables, and smiled unpleasantly. "Sirius is a thoughtless bully. Remus is his childhood sidekick. Have an enjoyable trip."  
  
Then he left, and things just went from bad to worse. 

"We need to move. Did you bring the Portkey?" 

  
"Of course."  
  
She produced an actual key, and held it out, presumably for Remus and Sirius to grab hold of. Sirius didn't like this, and neither did Remus. He could tell.

"Er...would you mind telling us your names?" Sirius asked. They both stared at him, flatly. Remus nudged him with his elbow. 

  
"I don't think they're supposed to," he whispered. "Maybe we haven't got enough clearance, or authority to actually know..."  
  
"Jane and John," said the girl, sounding bored. "Now can we go?" It was obvious she'd just picked the first two names that had jumped into her head, and Sirius took hold of the key with a sigh. Beside him Remus did the same, and the jolt in his stomach only served to remind him of the many times he'd used Portkeys to get to Quidditch matches with James. 

It would be a long day.

*****

Remus stretched, and from his armchair watched as the girl worked. He found himself watching people all the time just lately, and it made him feel useless. As though nothing he did could have any effect on any outcome. He blamed himself for Pettigrew's escape, and that didn't make for sleep-filled nights.

After he and Sirius had taken hold of the Portkey they'd been transported to here. Here was what John (he didn't like using those names, but had been forced to) called a temporary shelter. It was what Remus called a one-roomed cottage, complete with fireplace, three barn-owls and a couple of mattresses. Oh, and the armchair, which Jane had insisted upon him using. Both seemed to regard himself and Sirius as old, with all the disrespect of their youthful generation. Through further painfully stilted conversation, Remus had found out that Jane was twenty-five, John three years older. 

Then Sirius had volunteered to accompany John in setting up some dormant wards around their hideaway. Which left Remus practically alone, in the decidedly uncomfortable armchair. Actually, Remus was fairly annoyed about the whole situation. Whatever Dumbledore said, they were on this mission for Sirius, to help Sirius, and the man in question was behaving like a total git.

Remus had seen him twice – count that, twice – since their initial reunion, and something was indefinably wrong. Naturally Remus had expected him to be _changed_ – just not this changed. 

"Does Mr Black have any distinguishing characteristics?" asked the girl suddenly, sucking on her pen. It was a pen of the sort Muggles used, and he wondered if she was a Muggle-born.

"He's got a tattoo of a star on his lower back," Remus replied absent-mindedly. "Why?"  
  
The girl ignored him, and started to hum. He didn't recognise the tune, and attempted to sink into the chair. It just wasn't possible.

"Would you classify Mr Black as unstable, dangerously unstable, sane or dangerously sane?" she asked again, humming while she waited for his answer. Remus frowned.

  
"I'd have problems classifying him as vegetable, animal or mineral, never mind sane or otherwise," he retorted. "And I'd like to know exactly what you're doing, please." Some of us still have manners, he added silently to himself.

She sighed. "If you must know, it's a report. I have to update the Ministry's records on both of you throughout this little 'quest', and then file two full written reports. The Department of Mysteries sees this as a chance to gather new information."

"You have records on me?" Remus said, interested, despite himself. After all, it wasn't every day one was considered special enough to have his own record.

"We have records on everyone," she said dully.

Oh. He wondered if the pseudo vampire look was the duo's usual attire or if they'd been on some undercover mission. Remus was fairly sure that red eyes weren't normal, and he actually found them more than a little unnerving. 

"What does Sirius' say?"  
  
"I haven't had time to make any real observations. So far, I've just stuck with 'damaged'."  
  
"And mine?"

She gave him a calculating look. "Damaged." 

The girl stopped writing abruptly and shoved the papers into her backpack. She fixed Remus with a steady glare. "If anyone other than me opens that bag, they're instantly transported to a cell in Azkaban. Standard issue to Unspeakables. Just so you know." With that little piece of cheerful information, she opened the door and disappeared into the night. 

Checking to make sure nobody was watching, Remus moved the armchair a few more inches away from the bag. It always paid to be safe. 

*****

Sirius leaned against the wall, and for the first time in twelve years wanted to smoke. Instead he contented himself with bending down and trying to detect the ley lines which would raise strong wards around the place. This method of protection wasn't new to him – he'd had ley line wards set up around his old house, back when he'd been an Auror. 

"Finn."  
  
Hell, he was quiet. Anyone else would have jumped, but Fake Sirius was adept at being smooth. Sirius carried on with his task, tapping each section of the ground tentatively with his wand and listening carefully.

"Gills," he said softly, and the young man laughed. Again, it was a quiet laugh. Everything they did had to be quiet. Lily had never worked in the field – she was one of the inventors, the clever people who developed new charms, new ideas to make the Unspeakables even more efficient. If Aurors were deadly weapons, the Unspeakables were valuable chameleons, unseen sources of information.   
  
"That's my name, Finn."  
  
There was a pleasant Irish lilt to Finn's voice, and Sirius turned around, somewhat puzzled. "Why tell me now?"  
  
"Because I'm infinitely less professional than Isobel and dislike being called John. Now we're out of immediate danger, I'm ready to relax," Finn replied, indicating with his foot that Sirius had chanced upon the last line. They were reasons that made sense to Sirius – he wouldn't have wanted to be known as John, either. 

The two raised the last line in a more companionable silence, and Sirius allowed himself a small glow of satisfaction as the now complete ward flickered briefly before settling into place. Once more he leaned against the wall, and Finn squatted on the ground. The younger man's bleached blonde hair suited his angular face, and Sirius wished that he 'd been able to enjoy being twenty-five. Twenty-eight, however old they were.

No, no. He didn't deserve those lost years, he knew that now. Fake Sirius was starting to become too much like the old Sirius, too vain and self-involved. Maybe he should do away with Fake Sirius altogether. Then again, he wasn't sure if he could stand facing up to Real Sirius and his real problems.

"Does Isobel normally have red eyes?" Sirius asked, his tone casual. Finn laughed again, and shook his head.

"No, we were on an assignment. My fault, I didn't fill in me time sheet correctly. There was some overlap – Isobel wasn't pleased. She hates that spell, gives her a headache –"  
  
"Gives who a headache, _John_?"

He could see that her eyes were still red, and came to the conclusion that they must be using some variant on the Oculus Lumen Charm. Ability to see in the dark would probably have been useful on a mission where the dress code screamed vampire. 

"You, apparently," said Sirius. "Can I bum a cigarette?"  
  
"No," she replied. "They're bad for you."  


"Ah, come on Izzy. The man's been in Azkaban..."  
  
"And if he gave up, he should stick with it," she said, squatting next to Finn and lighting up. "Besides, I'm on a ration system, one a day."  
  
"That's your second," interjected Sirius. 

"It's been an unusual day," said Isobel, in her clipped, very upper-class voice.

And it was happening again. He was being drawn into actual conversation when there was no need for it. Sirius had started his own ration system. He'd put on a show for Harry, Dumbledore and even Remus. To everyone else, he was a non-entity. The Dementors may as well have already kissed him. Resolving not to say another word, he stared at the stars.

"Did you start that report?" asked Finn.

  
"Yes. I don't see why I'm stuck with doing it, you're the Ravenclaw."  
  
Sirius was drawn back in.

"And which house were you in, Isobel?"  
  
"I didn't say that you could use my name. And Slytherin. We work surprisingly well together, Finn and I," she continued, taking a long draw. "He's the brains and I'm the bitch."

He wasn't about to disagree.

*****

Remus could hear the three of them talking outside, and he felt hurt. Fine then, leave him in here all alone with a frankly dangerous bag and nothing to do. You're a grown up, Remus, go and join them. He didn't really want to. As soon as he stepped outside, Sirius was likely to clam up again. 

Running his fingers through the new short haircut he'd had done only days before, the werewolf lay down on one of the mattresses and wondered if he'd brought the right equipment. Severus (who for some reason had been delegated by Dumbledore to be their contact with the outside world) had told them they should travel light, only taking the bare necessities. Remus had packed his wand, some crackers (in his experience it was always handy to carry crackers), a small chocolate bar and a rather battered copy of _Great Expectations_. He was currently halfway through, and it had seemed a shame to leave the book behind.

Lying back, he turned to the place he'd marked with a scrap of parchment (Remus never folded the corners over) and noticed that on the scrap he'd written 27/9. A reminder that the next full moon was in a week's time. 

It would be the first full moon he'd spent with Sirius since their botched reunion over a year ago. Remus wondered whether he should say something – Dumbledore had promised him that Snape would somehow get him the Wolfsbane Potion, so Padfoot had no need to be there – and decided against it. The old Sirius Black would have known the cycle of the moon as well as he did. Better, in fact.   
  
Remus read his book, and tried not to think about the old Sirius, because the more he thought, the less he liked the new version.

*****

She finished the cigarette (Sirius noticed that she smoked them right down to the filter) and stood up. "I'll see you both in the morning. Wake up at five, we'll be moving on at half past."  
  
"Where are you off to, then?" asked Finn, obviously amused by his partner's attitude.

"I need to shower."  
  
And Isobel disappeared around the back of the hut, humming as she went. Sirius picked up the tune, and sang a couple of lines under his breath.

"I'll play the part but I won't need rehearsal...all I gotta do is act naturally..."  
  
"You know that?" said Finn, sounding interested. "I never know any of her stuff, it's all Muggle music."  
  
"It's the Beatles," said Sirius, still counting constellations. "Best group in existence, no-one's bettered them, no-one ever will."  
  
"Well, that's Izzy all over, she loves Muggle things."  
  
"Unusual in a Slytherin."  
  
"I understand you were a Gryffindor?" Sirius nodded, and noticed that Finn's voice was flat again. "I take it Pettigrew was also...he's a traitorous, cowardly murderer by all accounts. Unusual in a Gryffindor."

And Sirius was left alone outside, staring at the stars with tears in his eyes. He hated the way he cried at the slightest provocation. Then again, he had a lot of things to cry about.

*****

Remus looked up as the young man with the bleached hair came back in from outside, and closed his book.

"I suppose you don't have a name, either," he tried. He was making an effort, he really was. To his amazement, the young man smiled. It was a faint smile, but it was more reaction than he'd had from anyone all day.

"Finn. You're Remus Lupin, if I can call you Remus that'd be grand," said Finn, perching on the edge of the armchair, kicking his shoes off. The Irish accent reminded him of the time he'd spent in Ireland directly after Lily and James' deaths, and he wondered if it was put-on or genuine. At this precise moment in time Remus really wouldn't put anything past these two – he was planning on sleeping lightly tonight.

"That's what everyone else calls me. And your companion?"  
  
"Ah, I suppose she got all snotty with you." Finn suddenly stuck out a long, lean leg and kicked the offending backpack lightly. "And then she'll have threatened you with the bag, am I right?"  
  
Remus grinned. "You've obviously worked together for a while."  
  
"Since she was eighteen. I had to train her up, then we got sent into a spot of bother with some Death Eaters who were supposed to be dead...the rest, as they say, is history. Isobel, by the way, that's what she's calling herself."

"So Finn and Isobel aren't actually your real names?" Remus said, a little incredulously. 

"That's classified information," Finn replied, with a tilted grin of his own. 

Then every flame in the room was extinguished with a soft _pwoosh_.

*****

"Well, I hope you come and see me in the movies...then I know that you will plainly see...  
the biggest fool that ever hit the big time..."  
  
Isobel stopped singing, and heard the soap bubbles pop softly in her hair. The reaction of any normal person, upon hearing a branch snap, would have been to call out. The reaction of any normal person who had been washing themselves outside, was currently naked _and_ covered in foam would have been to shriek and hurriedly cover themselves up.

She, however, prided herself on not being a normal person, and so froze. Wand already in her hand (rule number one of being an Unspeakable, never leave your wand on the floor) she crouched down, every movement necessary. One movement, grab her trousers. One movement, pull them on. One movement, grab her top. One movement, pull it on.

One movement, stand up. 

Her breathing controlled, exercises that had at first seemed so strange were now second nature, Isobel knew Finn would cover the interior. Her job now was to secure the exterior then join them inside. All the light had gone, and she decided that it was a diversionary tactic, to make them think the wards had gone done.

A simple Weather Inducement spell could have been used to make the wind blow harder. Working on this assumption, Isobel used her wand to tap the ley lines around her feet. They glinted in the darkness like strands of silver, and held. Good.

Tap one, tap two, tap three. All holding. She moved round the corner, swift and silent on bare feet. Tap four, tap five. Excellent. Still no sign of intruders, maybe it really had been...

She paused, left foot just about to come down on a Humbugger. 

"Salazar..." she allowed herself to hiss, knowing all too well that the assailants were long gone. Ley line six was down, just enough room to insert something with enough negative magical power to blow them all into next month. If she thought that was a problem, she was wrong. Either she hadn't been careful enough, or this was a particularly potent Humby. Isobel was caught in the negation field, and her foot was being drawn slowly closer to the bomb.

Muggles and wizards shared the same words, only wizard bombs were a million times worse than anything men in suits could dream up. Silent explosion that would erase all their memories permanently and have the nice side-effect of leaving their bodies paralysed. Nicknamed Humbuggers by the Department because anyone who visited the site of a test detonation was left with an unpleasant humming in their ears for days.

Test detonation. Isobel had never seen one of these in the field, she'd never expected to. They were Voldemort's signature toys, and although she and Finn had dealt with many renegade Death Eaters over the years, they'd never dealt with active ones.

For the eighth time in her life, Isobel was scared. 

"Agent 6!" she yelled. Now was not the time for caution. "Agent 6! This is Agent 9 requesting immediate assistance!" 

Just because she was about to destroy all of their lives, and her own into the bargain, there was no reason to use first names. If there was one thing Isobel was good at, it was following protocol.

*****

Sirius wasn't stupid. He knew better than to scream or do anything other than drop to the floor when all the lights went out. He couldn't hear any sound from inside the little shack, which he hoped meant Finn was doing his job. Sirius had the sudden and vital urge to run in there, throw himself in front of Moony and protect him from whatever onslaught was coming. That was all he was good for now, a barrier between his few remaining friends and pain. God knows, he'd caused them all enough of it in the past.

There was an agonising wait, when he heard muffled footsteps (they weren't the top Death Eaters, the, they weren't the worst) and still no other sound.

"Agent 6!"  
  
It was the girl – sounded like she was in trouble. Old Sirius would've run to help the damsel in distress without a moments thought, Real Sirius knew he should let Finn (presumably Agent 6) answer the summons but Fake Sirius was in control at the moment, and Fake Sirius was always right. Fake bloody Sirius had learnt his lesson in Azkaban, and occasionally looked haunted, but above all Fake Sirius was a paragon of virtues. He was the doting Godfather, the clever wizard, the one who'd always work on the side of Good. 

Fake Sirius ran _stealthily_ to the rescue. And that was the difference.

She was just around the corner, and was either rabid or had been in the middle of a shower. It was just as well that he could barely see, because by the looks of things wet clothes were sticking to that lithe and slender – Fake Sirius was also, apparently, a bit of a pervert.

"Get Agent 6, now," she snapped. Sirius noticed that her foot was suspended above – oh Godric, above a Humbugger. He hadn't seen one of those in over a decade. Sirius remembered how they used to find them outside the houses full of dead people, the fatal Humbuggers lying in wait for the Aurors. A few had been taught how to neutralise the bloody things, and he supposed Finn would know what to do. He didn't know the ins and outs, but he knew someone was going to have to stop her foot from moving any closer or they could all say goodbye to their memories. 

Real Sirius was sorely tempted to stand on the thing himself, but Fake Sirius and Old Sirius ganged up on him.

"Tell me how to stop your foot, now, there isn't time."  
  
She glared at him, then sighed in exasperation and fear. "Come around the other way and pull me back, get those two out here to help, hurry."

"Yes ma'am," he whispered, and then jumped into action. Banging on the side of the hut, he yelled. "It's me, it's Sirius, they've gone, left us with a Humby. Nice way to welcome us to the neighbourhood." He heard the door open, but was already halfway round the hut, and now he could see Isobel. She was breathing rapidly, and he knew he was resisting the negation field with all her might. This 'pulling her back' risked both of them being drawn in, but there wasn't time to think.

This was where Old Sirius excelled. 

"I'm here," he said, grabbing her round the waist.

"Yes, all the panting gave you away," she replied, a note of hysteria in her voice. If he remembered correctly the trick with negation fields was a sharp, strong tug in the opposite direction. He bit down on his leg and did so.

"If I needed the Heimlich manoeuvre, I would've said," she gasped, obviously winded. Sirius grimaced.   
  
"Sorry."

He barely had time to register the twin looks of amusement and shock on Remus and Finn's faces before two things happened. Sirius pulled sharply at Isobel again and this time he felt the negation field give. As they both went flying backwards he also heard the tell-tale click of the Humbug's detonator sliding into place.

*****

Finn swore.

At least, he swore on the inside. On the outside he always had to be charming, cool as a chilled cucumber Finn. For most of the time, he was that chilly on the inside, too. Not when faced with a deadly weapon he'd only ever dealt with in training. Five years ago. Once.

"Shit." That was Isobel, of course. "Sorry about that."

Finn shrugged, and crouched down next to the Humbugger, his new acquaintance, Remus, following suit. "No problem."  
  
"What is it?" asked Remus, sounding more than a little puzzled.

"A Humbugger. Wipes your memory and paralyses the entire body."  
  
Finn was slightly impressed. "The Aurors knew about these?"  
  
"We had to," replied Sirius, picking himself up off the ground. "In the old days, Voldemort was a lot more common. There was one of these little presents waiting at every house," he added with the ghost of a grin.

All of this information was lost on Finn, who'd frantically been buying time. He _thought_ he remembered how to do it, and uncertain death was currently sounding much better than certain.

"You do know how to neutralise it?" Remus said again, his voice more than a little disbelieving. Finn frowned, and flourished his wand. 

"Of course," he muttered. The tell-tale humming noise was starting to get under his skin. The note had started low and was getting higher every second that passed. He knew what would happen when it stopped.

"Of course he does," echoed Isobel, her faith (however misplaced) somewhat reassuring. "We're _Unspeakables_. This is what we do."

"So do it," muttered Remus. If he hadn't been so absorbed, Finn would've given the werewolf a sharp look. He'd heard stories at Hogwarts about both men, and although he wasn't going to tell either of them, they'd been quite famous. He supposed that over the years the names had been forgotten, the pranks they pulled turned into legend, but he remembered the Gryffindors boasting.

Somehow, he'd imagined them to be taller.

Tapping the top of the Humbugger with his wand, Finn whispered the word he hoped would open the thing. "_Famen aperio_," he tried, and to his immense relief the word 'Prongs' shimmered softly in the air beside him and the Humbugger clicked open. 

"What was that?" said Remus, and there was something different in his tone. "Why did that word appear?"  
  
"It's the password," Finn explained, staring at the innards of the Humby. There were two small vials containing different potions, one green, one blue. He had to break one. He didn't know which one, and the whining noise was getting higher.

"You all have to leave, now," he said, trying to sound calm. "If I don't neutralise this in time, Isobel, you know what to do." 

They'd discussed it before, and he knew she would.

"But Finn..." 

And there was an unspoken plea in the cut-glass voice that made his heart break.   
  
"Don't make me pull rank, Agent 9."  
  
There was a pause, and the tension of the moment was exacerbated by that ever-present wail.  
  
"Yes, sir. Mr Black, Mr Lupin, if you'd follow me."  
  
They were gone. Finn didn't know how far they'd get, but it didn't make sense for all of them to die. He was going to cast a Protection Charm around himself and the Humby. The Charm was strong enough to contain the Humby's blast – the only problem was that a sufficiently powerful wizard needed to be _inside_ the charm in order for it to work. Finn shoved his wand into the soil, so it was standing upright, and placed his hand on the point. "_Defendo_ _Finn_," he muttered, and a bright blue sphere shimmered into being. So far, so good. 

"Right then."  
  
The whine was getting higher and higher, hurting his ears. Green or blue. Green, or blue. Blue. No, maybe it was green. Blue. Green. The colours merged together until all he could see was a red haze in front of his eyes, black spots starting to appear.  
  
"No, no, Finn, you are _not_ faintin' on them. Now choose." 

The Humbugger stopped humming.  
  
He chose.


	3. Bad Boy

A/N : Thankyou very much if you reviewed the last two instalments. In this chapter, Remus gets a new look, Sirius is full of the joys of spring and Severus makes a brief appearance. Goody.

__

A bad little kid moved into my neighbourhood  
He won't do nothing right just sitting down and looks so good  
He don't want to go to school and learn to read and write  
Just sits around the house and plays the rock and roll music all night  
Well, he put some tacks on teachers chair  
Puts some gum in little girl's hair  
Hey, junior, behave yourself

****

Bad Boy – The Beatles

"Darling, what _have_ you done to your hair?"

"Nothing much," the teenager responded defiantly, eyes sparkling as he sat down at the table. His father looked over the top of the newspaper, smiled, then went back to the crossword.

  
"Sweetheart, it's blue."  
  
"Really?" he said, trying not to laugh as he buttered a slice of toast.   
  
"And it's right down past your shoulders...it's in a ponytail!"  
  
"Mum, that's the style. Anyway, you can't talk. I've seen the pictures," he said knowingly, waving the slice of toast at her as he stood up again. "Your hair was down to here..." he said, tapping her on the back. When she turned around he grabbed the cup of tea from her hand and went back upstairs.  
  
"But - but Sirius, I'm a _girl_!" she spluttered.

"Well done, Mum!" he called from the top of the stairs.

Then he heard someone singing, and not very well. It was loud, and slightly out of tune. Suddenly he started to grow, arms stretching, hair getting shorter until he was tall, too tall, impossibly tall...and he was standing by a waterfall.

"Now, junior, behave yourself...gonna tell your mama, you better do what she said...oh, yeah...get to the barber shop and get that hair cut off your head...uh huh...threw the canary and you fed it to the neighbour's cat..."

Sirius opened one eye, and both singing and the sound of falling water stopped. Maybe it had all been a dream, just a dream – where the hell was he? 

Sitting upright abruptly, Sirius remembered running away from the little hidey-hole, leaving Finn to neutralise that Humby – where was Finn, where were Remus and Isobel?

"You passed out," said a familiar voice. The owner of the familiar voice was sitting in the armchair, eating an apple.

  
"Finn?"  
  
"One and only," said the Irishman with a grin. "Neutralised the little bugger, told you I would."  
  
"So why did I pass out, then?" Sirius asked, relived that the more likeable Unspeakable was still around. "Break it to me gently."  
  
"Oh, you all did. When I smashed the vial, the Humby still went off – just at a very, very low level. So you all passed out and you were all a little slow to remember what happened." Finn took another bite of his apple, and Sirius felt very hungry.

"Are those classified apples, or can anyone have one?" he asked, and Finn pointed to a bag on the floor.  
  
"Have a look in there, I think there's another apple and an orange. Your mate's gone outside, said he needed some fresh air. You're lookin' a bit pale, go and join him."  
  
Sirius understood the hidden message – go outside, Isobel and I have things that we need to discuss. For a brief second Old Sirius felt indignant at taking orders from those younger than him, but Fake Sirius understood with sickening clarity the chain of command, and nodded knowingly.

*****

Remus was intensely relieved when he found out that all three of his companions (including Finn) had survived the Humby, although he dreaded to think what the Death Eaters would throw at them next. While Isobel went to have another shower (she obviously liked to keep clean) he'd taken an apple outside to nibble, leaving Finn to keep an eye on Sirius.

They would be moving on from the shack today, and to be frank he wouldn't miss it. The air was clammy with the sort of rain that clung to one's clothes, the grass wild and full of stinging nettles. He noticed the churned mud where they'd tried to escape from the Humby last night. Thank God the Unspeakables knew what they were doing.

"Hello," Sirius said shortly, leaning against the wall next to Remus.   
  
Well, this was a turn up for the books. Sirius Black, _the _Sirius Black actually acknowledging his existence?

"That's the most you've said to me all week," Remus commented, unable to stop himself from saying it. He knew he should be understanding, give him more time, perhaps, but this was _Sirius_. The same boy who he'd shared his life with, his thoughts and secrets and even his ruddy toothbrush, on the occasions when Sirius had done something entirely unsuitable with his own.

"I know," was the flat reply.  
  
"Do you want to tell me why, Padfoot?"  
  
"Don't bother, Moony."  
  
"Look, I've known you..."  
  
"Yeah, you've _known_ me. Past tense. And I've been pretending to you, and to Harry and to anyone else who matters, but I can't keep it up, I just can't, so don't think that I'm the old Sirius, the one who didn't care about anything. I'm not."  
  
He may not be the old Sirius, but he was certainly a confusing Sirius. 

  
"Fine."  
  
And that was a suitably childish response. Remus finished his apple, imagining that he was biting into Sirius' stupid head and threw the core into the bushes.

"Don't do that."  
  
Both men turned around. It had been Isobel's voice, but it wasn't Isobel speaking. This person was dressed in worn and comfortable wizarding robes, not a scrap of Muggle clothing (or extreme eyeliner, for that matter) in sight. This person had long brown hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. This person was also accompanied by Finn. Again, it wasn't the Finn they'd become accustomed to. For one thing, he looked about twenty years older, sported a neat beard and had colouring to match Isobel.

Remus was impressed. "Don't, er, do what?"  
  
"Throw the apple cores away, it leaves a trail. _Accio apple core_," Isobel said. The offending item flew into her open hand and she tapped in with her wand. "_Incinatero_." The core flared briefly, then there was a pile of ash in her hand. She sprinkled the ash into the ground. "You should both use that spell for any visible waste. Even human waste."  
  
Resisting the urge to wrinkle his nose, Remus looked at Finn. The permanently amused smile still hovered around the other Unspeakable's lips, and he leaned on a walking stick.

  
"Thanks for that, Professor Izzy."  
  
"Stop calling me Izzy, Finnigan."  
  
"Ouch, that stung," he replied, eyes dancing. "Anyway, the Death Eaters're on the look out for one woman and three men, so we'll be travelling as two women, a man and a dog. Alright?"  
  
He suddenly began to get a very bad feeling about this.

"I'm the dog?" Sirius asked, rather pointlessly. Of course you're the dog, you idiot, Remus wanted to shout, but restrained himself. Finn was very definitely dressed as a man, so that could only leave –

"Mr Lupin, if you'll come back into the hut I'll help you get changed," Isobel said, and he thought he heard her try to mask a snigger.

"Get changed into what exactly?"  
  
"We thought you'd make a convincing hag," said Isobel shortly.

Finn burst out laughing, and even Sirius cracked a smile. Wonderful. Days of cross country walking dressed as a hag. He followed Isobel into the hut in a decidedly bad mood, and Remus'd bet his last Knut that, somewhere out there, Severus Snape was laughing too.   
  
"If you sit here, I'll do your face," said Isobel seriously. It seemed she could be relied upon to be professional at all times, and that was starting to irk him. He sat down in the armchair and tried not to think about what she meant by 'doing his face'. It'd probably be some sort of Glamour.

"You don't have to call me Mr Lupin, you know," he said.

"I know."  
  
"So you can call me Remus," he prompted.

"I'm aware of that."  
  
"Right. Just so long as you're aware," he finished, feeling slightly embarrassed.

She finished tapping his cheeks and nose with her wand, and then laughed. It was a quiet laugh, almost a cough, of the sort Remus had heard Finn use. For all he knew they'd had their vocal chords altered so that their laughs were under a certain decibel level. He wouldn't put it past the Ministry – that reminded him. There was another thing that'd been bothering him.

"I take it the Ministry doesn't see me as a dangerous and despicable creature, anymore. I mean, sending the two best Unspeakables on an undercover mission with me – have they suddenly decided to trust werewolves?"  
  
"The Ministry didn't send us," Isobel said, sticking her tongue out a little in concentration. "Mundungus did. It's a personal favour – plus he'd probably sack us if we hadn't gone along with it." 

"Sorry, I'm being stupid. Of course, the Ministry don't know about Sirius."
    
    She stopped whatever she was doing, and looked him square in the eye. "The Ministry generally see what they like to see – they use you up, then they spit you out and deny the slobber belongs to them." She resumed tapping him lightly with the wand – presumably applying further Glamours. "You must hate it when people find out – the reputation going before you, I mean. Must be almost as bad as being a Slytherin."
    He grimaced, feeling guilty on behalf of his house. "I'm sorry."
    "You're sorry about a lot of things. There's no need to be sorry - no-one's died, Mr Lupin. Unless you count all those who channelled their ambition into something evil, and in doing so achieved just what was expected of them." She drew back, and scrutinised his face. "There. I've left you some robes on the mattress, change into them – I'll leave your body as it is, if we get approached you'll just have to hunch over."
    "How long will the Glamours last for?" Remus asked, unwilling to touch his face. He was sure his nose was longer, and more crooked. His skin felt somehow saggy. It wasn't a very pleasant experience.

"That's my problem. I'll take care of it."  
  
He was sure that she would.

*****

Sirius was looking forward to the journey as Padfoot. He wouldn't have to talk to anyone, which meant Fake Sirius could piss off back to the second level of Hell as far as he was concerned. Old Sirius could join him, and even Real Sirius would shut up for a while. He didn't know what he was left with when he was Padfoot – perhaps he was simply Padfoot. That was entirely acceptable.

"I presume I won't be slung into jail for my...er...unregistered status?"  
  
"Nah – we find Pettigrew, clear your name, you can register then. I'm sure Dumbledore'll gloss over the forms for you."  
  
"Right."  
  
There was a pause, and Sirius knew Finn was going to ask him about being an Animagus. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if a clever lad like him was in training to become one.

"You must be pretty good to have worked it all out at such a young age."

"I didn't. It was James."  
  
"Yes," Finn said softly. "Prongs." He knelt down and started rubbing handfuls of dust into his boots. "Mundungus told us about the names – that was why the password for the Humby shocked you, wasn't it?"

"That's how we knew it was a present from Peter," Sirius said, his voice weary. He was sick of this. He was sick of his life, such a promising little life, turning out to be so completely _ruined. _Nearly every sentence he spoke had some hidden pain – nothing was throwaway, it was all for keeps.

"And I guessed it was the green vial for Mrs Potter's eyes."  
  
"You guessed?" Sirius gave a dry chuckle. "Bloody hell, you've got some nerve."  
  
"It was either that or die – just don't tell Izzy. She'll start getting all uppity, and I can't be dealing with it."

"Educated guess, any road – Peter always was one for the personal touch."  
  
"Yeah..." 

"We're ready."  
  
The door to the shack slammed shut and then creaked opened again, slowly. Isobel made an exasperated noise and flung it open. "Mr Lupin, it's really nothing to be embarrassed about."  
  
"I've seen you in women's clothes before, Moony, it isn't such a big deal."  
  
Where did that come from? Must've been Fake Sirius – after the outburst this morning he had to remember not to pretend for Remus, not anymore – he just wouldn't talk to him. Another involuntary laugh bubbled up at the sight of his friend, and for a few seconds it was like old times.

'Mr Lupin' made a comical figure. His lean body was swathed in voluminous, tattered robes – his skin was no longer taut, he had watery eyes too large for his face, and several teeth were missing. Isobel had made his poker-straight nose bent and crooked – Sirius remembered how Moony and Prongs used to tease him about his broken nose, who was laughing now – and the finishing touch was an exaggerated version of Remus' naturally tilted smile, until one half of his mouth was twisted into a permanent leer.

Remus did a pirouette and then curtsied. "Want your fortune doing, deary?" he croaked, leering at an unimpressed Isobel in a fairly decent impression of their old Divination teacher. "Cross an old lady's palm with silver, my dead ducky."  
  
And then it was gone. Sirius felt his face close up again – cross my palm with silver, couldn't do that, Moony was a werewolf, I told Snape he was a werewolf, I nearly killed someone, I nearly killed _him_ – and he couldn't wait to change.

*****

Finn threw her an orange. Isobel hated oranges.

"What happened to all the apples?"  
  
"Eaten."  
  
She pursed her lips and started trying to peel it as they walked. Wands had been banned for the duration, kept in pockets or hidden sheaths until needed. By needed, Finn meant until they were ambushed by Death Eaters. Not an if, a when. 

This was easily the most dangerous mission she'd ever undertaken. That made it interesting, to say the least. Rats, the orange zest was getting underneath her carefully dirtied fingernails, and now they just looked odd. 

"Damn it to hell," she muttered, wanting very much to fling the stupid piece of fruit as hard as she could in the other direction. Instead she put it back in her pack. Food should never be wasted.

The improbably large black dog was gambolling some way in front of the three walkers, apparently full of the joys of spring, despite the fact that it was autumn. Isobel rolled her eyes, and concentrated on her pace. Not too fast, not too slow. Comfortable.

She felt a sudden warmth in the region of her thigh, and sighed. "Halt," she said, and everyone stopped. 

"What is it now?" asked Finn, as though she were some irritating child. She didn't bother to answer him, he didn't deserve an answer if he was going to speak to her like that. Reaching into her robes, her hands closed around the small jar and she pulled it out, turning her back to the others.

He was tapping his fingers against the wall or a desk, she could hear the tinny sound through the holes in the side of the glass. Suspended in the small, portable blue flame was Severus Snape's head. He didn't look particularly happy – that could mean anything. In all the time she'd known him – ever since she was 18 – he'd never smiled at her once. Not that this offended her. Isobel's own smiles were rare and fleeting – Finn was the nearest thing to a regular recipient.

"Agent 9, how considerate of you to respond," he said, voice icy.

  
"We were busy," she replied.  
  
"I need a condensed report and an outline of your whereabouts for today."  
  
"Affirmative – I need visual on your surroundings."  
  
Isobel liked speaking to Severus. He understood the need for correct procedure. He tilted his own glass jar (with her head floating in it, she supposed) so that she got a 360 degree view of the room. This was in case Voldemort or one of his Death Eaters had captured Severus and were forcing him to use the protected line. Of course, the gits could be invisible, but she found what she was looking for – a quill on the desk in the far corner. If that quill wasn't there, security had been breached and she was to sever all contact. As it was, she had to give a report.

If she wasn't so stubborn, she'd have asked Finn to do it.

"One Humbugger was found inside the wards, activated by Agent 9 and deactivated successfully by Agent 6," she said calmly, feeling entirely stupid. Detonated by Agent 9. That would go on her permanent record, all because Sirius Black hadn't pulled her back in time – no. She couldn't blame it on anyone but herself – that was what made it so bad.

"And today's itinerary?"

A pleasant hike, followed by riverside picnic, music and dancing. 

"Across the dales, due south east, same bearings as yesterday, ETA 1900 hours."  
  
"Sleeping arrangements?"  
  
"We have two tents."  
  
"And how is _Snuffles_ today?"   
  
"He's..." She paused, and looked over her shoulder. "He's currently rolling in horse shit, Agent 3."  
  
"It's only to be expected. Transmission over."

"Over and out."  
  
"Was that Snape?" said Lupin, sounding interested. If the man...hag...asked her _another_ question with that same, gently enquiring tone of voice, looked at her with those disgustingly lively, eager-to-learn eyes again she was going to scream. Isobel decided to abandon her previous policy of simply refusing to answer him, and try a different tactic.

"No, it was his identical twin, Agent Sneers-a-lot."  
  
Sarcasm was the most annoying form of humour, after all. If that didn't put him off, she was going to have to start wearing silver jewellery. Plenty of it.

*****

The humming noise was doing his nut. Finn knew he'd been short with Isobel, but quite frankly he didn't care. Not one to complain – he hated whiners – Finn hadn't slept much with the constant noise in his ears. Although the bomb hadn't really detonated, it had almost detonated, and that, apparently, was enough.

One small blessing was that he didn't have to talk to Severus. He secretly thought Izzy had something of a schoolgirl crush on the man, an observation he'd never dare voice, for fear of being beaten around the head with her wand. Still, his partner's affections aside, he rarely had any contact with Agent 3, and felt much better for it. There was something that unnerved him about Severus Snape, and he disliked the contempt he showed for near everybody. Finn knew he was a good man, though, and men had their reasons for wearing masks.

He looked at the dog running ahead, and made a mental note not to let his guard down just yet. Men had their reasons for wearing masks, and Sirius Black seemed to go through three or four a day.

"Where are we going, exactly?"  
  
It was Remus Lupin, professional hag.   
  
"To find Peter Pettigrew."  
  
"But that attack last night was planned by him," said Remus in a patient, schoolteacher voice. "Surely he knows we're on his trail."  
  
"He wasn't there last night," Finn said quietly. "I'll know when he's near, trust me. We've been tipped off as to his whereabouts – he'll stay there. He's probably sent a few Death Eaters to finish us off before we get anywhere near – I doubt he's even worried."  
  
"Oh, he'll be worried," the were-hag said grimly.   
  
Gritting his teeth, Finn continued walking in silence. He reflected that this was one of the worst days of his life, ranking right up there with the time he was stuck in a dustbin for seven hours on an undercover operation. No-one seemed able to say anything without it turning into a line deserving of the adjectives 'grimly', 'shortly' or in Isobel's case 'sarcastically'. Usually he'd try to brighten the atmosphere with some light conversation. Unfortunately, all he wanted to do was shove his head under a pillow and scream.

"Shush a minute," said Isobel nonsensically. Nobody had actually been talking, and he was about to point that helpful fact out to her when he saw the grass flatten just left of his foot. 

"What?" Remus said.

The dog stopped frolicking, and Finn rolled his eyes.   
  
"Rachel's hearing things again. C'mon, we've got to get to Barker's Farm by nightfall. Are you alright, Mother?" he asked Remus, concerned.  
  
"Yes son, I'm fine."

"I'm coming, Father," said Isobel, in an Irish accent. Good girl, he thought, wanting to kiss her. Good girl. They'd agreed on non-descript Middle England accents, but he must've slipped out of it. What was going on? He was becoming complacent, distracted by that damned humming. What if they'd overheard his conversation with Remus? What if they'd seen Isobel talking to Snape?  
  
Ears pricked, he started talking again, using the code they always used.

"Will it be time for a cup of tea soon, darlin'?"  
  
_Are you ready to fight?_

"Yes, Father, you'll need to rest those old bones."  
  
_I'll take point position, you protect Lupin and Black._

  
"Oh, there's life in this old dog yet. Here, I'll make the tea."  
  
_I'll take point position, you protect Lupin and Black. I'll start it off._

Isobel sighed. "Ah, when will you ever learn to let your daughter help you?"  
  
_Let me do it!_

"No, no, I'll make the tea. Will you catch those rabbits for me?"

__

Take prisoners if possible. 

"Should I kill them, Father?"  
  
_Should I aim to kill, Finn?_

"Yes."

__

Yes.

Years of training had made Finn whip thin and fast. He pushed Lupin to the ground, kicked out at the patch of flattened grass, and raised his wand. Now was the time for focus, and he couldn't, mustn't drop the mask.

*****

Remus realised they were being followed the moment Isobel called for them to listen. The seemingly innocent (if a little eccentric) conversation that followed was obviously some sort of code, and he'd tried to guess at a little of it. The only part he'd really understood was the part about killing. Shoot to kill. 

That was when it all became serious.

His life was all about serious, in one way or another. Serious because he was a werewolf, serious because of the war, serious because of this war – there'd been a time when he'd travelled, and healed, and even had a little fun. It had taken a while for the seriousness of this mission to really sink in. Remus hadn't been in combat with Death Eaters for a good few years, and he was scared.

Brave as hell and willing to die, but scared.

Then Finn pushed him to the ground and kicked out at thin air. Remus rolled, and as he rolled grabbed his wand and pulled it out. He could hear muffled shouts, and someone grabbed him roughly under his armpits. He drew his fist back for a punch, then realised it was Isobel, she was turning him around and pushing him blindly in the direction of the trees.

"Go. Go. Take Sirius, run. I'll cover. _Avada Kedavra!"_

He didn't want to see. Remus didn't bother to protest – there was bravery and there was stupidity – and ran for the trees, grabbing Sirius (who, in the confusion, had turned back) by the arm and dragging him to cover. Sirius allowed himself to be pulled to the floor, rolled under a bush, and Remus marvelled at this docility. 

From the relative safety of the bush, Remus surveyed the fight. The Death Eaters – there were five – had thrown off their invisibility cloaks, presumably so they could see each other and work as a unit. The cloaks were awkward to move in, Remus knew that from experience.

The Death Eater Finn had kicked was lying immobile on the floor, his head at an impossible angle. Isobel had killed one with her Avada Kedavra, and was currently grappling with a black haired female.

Meanwhile Finn was dodging curses from a heavyset black man, a blond Death Eater staring furiously at him from a kneeling position. Someone had cast Petrificus Totallus. 

"_Avada Kedavra!_" It was Finn, that time, and his man fell to the floor. Remus heard a sickening crunch, and turned his head in time to see the raven haired girl drop lifelessly to the ground. Isobel's face was very pale, and she gestured for the two of them to come out.

  
Remus wasn't sure he wanted to.

*****

Sirius crawled out from under the bush. What in hell happened to you? he asked Fake Sirius, annoyed. Why weren't you out there, being an obstinate idiot, getting in the way and saving the day? Why were you scrabbling around in the dirt, man? Are you insane?

Real Sirius started nodding in agreement, then felt the wrath of Old Sirius. You can't talk, you're definitely insane. I've had enough. I'm off. Poof. Old Sirius was gone, for now, anyway. Real Sirius and Fake Sirius eyed each other suspiciously before Real Sirius sighed and started jabbering some nonsense about how he should have paid Lily more compliments. Fake Sirius was back in charge.

"Need some help with the bodies?" he asked Finn. The other man nodded slowly, as though he were thinking.   
  
"Yeah – if you'll just pat them down, take anything useful. Remus, d'you want to sit down for a moment? Your Glamours're wearing off and you might feel a little ill. It's a common side effect."

Common if you've been Glamourised into an elephant. Sirius knew what Finn was doing – he was giving Remus an excuse not to have to try and make himself useful – and he resented it. This was _Remus Lupin_. One person who didn't need coddling, not ever. Remus was strong, he was tough as old boots – he was shaking, ever so slightly.

Maybe he'd seen two dead bodies too many. Which dead bodies, Sirius wondered, in particular, had made him so desensitised to death? He'd seen a few in his time. A memorable one had been Arabella, her face slashed so blood pooled on her cheeks, on her lips. He'd always, always have that image of James burned into his mind, how his eyes were open. And how there had been no eyeballs.

He knelt down next to the dead girl, and started to go through her pockets.

It was easy work.

*****

Remus watched them all, from his position on the grass. The blond Death Eater with the square face was still alive and still Petrified, by the looks of things. In both senses of the words. Behind him, Remus heard Isobel crack her knuckles, and walk over to the Death Eater.

So this was what being an Unspeakable was all about. Gathering information. They weren't fighters, primarily; they gathered information. He remembered being told all this on the Careers Recruitment Day they'd attended in seventh year. 

She lit a cigarette.

"Agent 9?" Finn said, looking up from the black man he was searching.

"Yes, Agent 6?"  
  
"Skin the rabbit."  
  
To his credit, Blondie wasn't shaking. Of course, that was probably because he couldn't. She raised her wand, and the boy's – he wasn't much older than her – the boy's eyes met Remus'. He didn't look away.

"_Finite Incanteum Cranium,"_ she said, and Blondie's head suddenly lolled forward, before he snapped it back up again.

  
"I won't tell you anything, Mudblood cow," he spat out. It probably wasn't the right thing to say.

"Wrong on all accounts, I'm afraid. First of all, I'm not a Mudblood," she said precisely, moving closer. "Neither am I of the bovine persuasion." She was standing right in front of him now, and knelt down. Their faces were almost touching. Blondie spat, and she put her wand into her pocket before carefully wiping the spittle away. "Thirdly, and I feel, most importantly," she said softly, taking another drag on her cigarette. "You _will_ tell me everything."  
  
Remus finally looked away as Blondie screamed and Isobel stubbed her cigarette of the day out on the side of his face. 

*****

  
They were sitting outside the tents, cooking food. Finn had told them that after today's unexpected ambush (which Sirius knew had been fully expected, he'd expected it himself) they all deserved a slap-up meal.

The slap-up meal consisted of a burnt sausage each and some rice. 

"It could've been worse," Finn joked. "Izzy could've cooked."  
  
Sirius looked at the girl, and gave the required laugh. She was a little apart from the other three, and had cultivated her own small, grey cloud. He'd seen what she'd done earlier, and perhaps chain-smoking was her way of saying sorry to whatever God she worshipped. This way, she was killing a little bit of herself, too. Killing him, as well. If someone didn't give him a fag soon he'd have to steal one. 

"Did you kill him?" Remus asked.

Good for you, Moony. Gutsy move. 

"No," she said, the smoke clearing a little. "He's in Azkaban."  
  
"The bag," Finn said cryptically, but it must've made sense to Remus, because he nodded and no more was said.

They carried on talking, the pair of them, making enough light conversation to give the illusion of a comfortable little camping trip. In fact it was an almost idyllic, buddy-buddy scene, until the camera panned out to include the cancer-on-a-stick and the escaped convict. You're a bad, bad boy, Sirius Black, said Real Sirius. 

See, while everyone else had been eating and talking, Fake Sirius had let his guard down. And Real Sirius had just been biding his time – he wasn't quite as unhinged as all the other Siriusi had thought. Now Real Sirius was in the driving seat, and Real Sirius was almost dangerously sane. 

Gutsy moves.

The night was going to be full of them.


End file.
